


Step We Gaily

by BainAduial



Series: A Minbari Courtship [10]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BainAduial/pseuds/BainAduial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Midwinter’s wedding marks the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of Marcus and Neroon, and all the Warrior Caste as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step We Gaily

**Author's Note:**

> Originally part of the Valentine’s Day Song Drabble challenge on the Marcus/Neroon Yahoo Group. The song used for this segment was “Mairi’s Wedding” by The Rankin Family.

Marcus smiled as soon as he entered the large assembly hall on the Star Riders estate. His advanced non-Minbari combat techniques class had certainly outdone themselves. He’d assigned the lot of them the task of decorating the hall clear up to the rafters after a particularly ill-chosen prank had nearly had disastrous consequences for some of the family priests, including Neroon’s mother. Marcus took an extremely dim view of things that came close to harming his aging mother-in-law, as his students now knew intimately.

“Sech Marcus!” the ringleader, one of the final-year trainees, called in surprise. The entire class was soon assembled and standing at attention before him. Marcus let them sweat for a long moment before his face relaxed into a smile.

“It looks amazing. Thank you. Really. You’re dismissed. Just don’t do anything else ridiculous for the next three days, and I might even forgive you.”

A chorus of enthusiastic agreement answered him before they bowed as one and raced for the door, afraid he’d change his mind. Marcus chuckled as the door slammed behind the last of them. They’d be on their best behaviour for months, afraid of incurring his further wrath. Sometimes, his reputation was useful for something. 

He took the moment of solitude to look around the hall. Minbari not-quite-pine branches had been strung and looped about the entire place, tastefully accented with bows in a variety of jewel tones. Glass baubles glittered, half-hidden by the needles, and Marcus guessed that when the fires were lit in the morning, they would fill the hall with prisms of light. The shutters on the windows would also be thrown open, allowing guests to see out into the snow-filled courtyard. The snow was nearly level with the windowsill now, but the Worker Caste had somehow managed to get out into it anyway, leaving miraculous ice-sculptures to catch the winter sunlight. Marcus had never seen anything like it; normally for Midwinter Festival, the estate folk decorated simply and went down to the village for the major celebration. But this year, hosting the wedding of the Shai Alyt during the traditional three days of peace, in accordance with the oldest rituals of the Warrior Caste, the estate was filled with people and decorations both ancient and modern, and more were flooding in every day. Ardiri had barricaded herself and her staff in the kitchen, and you bothered them at the risk of being soundly trounced with tableware. Neroon had already nearly met his messy end at the business end of a ladle.

Satisfied that all was well, Marcus breathed a last deep breath of quiet and solitude before making his way back out into the bustling corridors of the estate. Tomorrow was the second day of the festival, and also the day of the wedding; he’d done everything possible to make sure both went off without a hitch, and all that was left now was the waiting. 

***

“Would you get a move on!” Marcus hollered into the bedroom at his husband, early the next morning.

“Would you take a deep breath!” Neroon returned, chuckling as he stepped out of the room and caught his mala in arms like bands of steel. “Stop vibrating, Marcus. Calm down.”

“Calm down!” Marcus objected. “The Shai Alyt is getting married in an hour, You’re not dressed, Ardiri is threatening mutiny over the refreshments, and you want me to calm down!”

“Rastenn is a good man, and you like him,” Neroon reminded the human, laughing. 

“Of course I like him, Neroon! That isn’t the point!”

Neroon just rolled his eyes and released his husband and pulled on the last of his dress uniform, smiling as Marcus continued fretting even as he moved to help with the ties. Neroon secretly thought his husband had a uniform fetish; he could count the number of times Marcus had allowed him to do it all himself on one hand. 

He continued smiling as Marcus herded him out of their room and through the crowded corridors to the small antechamber off of the assembly hall where the Shai Alyt’s party was waiting. Most of the room was, like Neroon, attired in the full dress uniform of the Star Riders Clan, according to their rank. A splash of colour to one side revealed the presence of a small group of humans, and Marcus made his way over to them, dragging Neroon in his wake. 

“Susan!” he greeted the now-retired woman with a smile and a hug, offering the same to the blonde beside her. “Talia! I wasn’t sure you’d get through, with the snow and all.”

Susan Ivanova grinned, hugging him back. “Marcus. We wouldn’t miss it for the world. The estate looks beautiful, you really went all out.”

“Yes, well,” Marcus grinned, turning slightly to acknowledge his name being called from across the room. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”

Both women grinned. “Entirely understandable,” Susan chuckled. “Go. We’ll be here for several days, we can catch up later.”

Marcus nodded and moved off, Neroon once again trailing after him in amusement. The energy his mala was giving off could probably have powered the estate for the next year. 

The Shai Alyt was standing proudly beside the door, whatever nerves she was feeling confined to opening and closing her denn’bok repeatedly. Neroon chuckled as they drew even with her.

“You know, that’s a terrible habit you picked up.”

“Dad!” Fara exclaimed, whirling and throwing herself into his arms before giving Marcus the same treatment. “Papa! You’re here!”

Neroon chuckled. “And where else would we be, on our own daughter’s wedding day? You look beautiful.”

“Aunt Ardiri helped,” Fara admitted, strapping her denn’bok back onto the belt of her formal uniform. She brushed her hands over her tunic, looking as if she didn’t quite know what to do with them now that she wasn’t holding a weapon. Marcus solved her problem by taking them, turning her slightly to observe her from all angles. 

“She did a good job,” Marcus smiled. “Shiny and perfect, every inch the Warrior Queen. I’m so proud of you, daughter.” 

Fara grinned. “Not quite every inch, papa. Dad and I asked Aunt Susan about human brides, too. So I’ve got the blue pin Delenn sent at my last birthday, a brand-new belt clasp with the Star Riders crest, and I borrowed one of Aunt Susan’s knives.” She gestured to a human weapon sheathed in her boot. “But I couldn’t find anything old… I mean, obviously, parts of the uniform are, but I really wanted something human, and I didn’t really have time to look.”

Marcus smiled softly at her. “You didn’t need to do this, Fara. What will people say, the Shai Alyt following human customs on her wedding day?”

Fara snorted. “They will say she honours her parents and her Clan, papa.”

Marcus’ eyes were suspiciously bright, but he nodded and hugged her again before pulling the antique silver clasp out of his thick white hair. “Here. Obviously it won’t work as a hair clasp, but it’s certainly old.”

Fara grinned, and latched it around the loop of fabric from her cloak that dangled over her chest. The age-tarnished celtic knotwork glowed beautifully against the deep red and black of the Warrior uniform, and Marcus smiled. “It suits you.”

Fara smiled back. “Thank you, papa. I… would you mind if we used just one other human tradition in the ceremony today?”

Marcus shook his head, glancing at Neroon suspiciously. “Not at all. What did you have in mind?” Neroon, who knew what their daughter planned, merely smiled.

“Would you give me to Rastenn, as G’Kar once gave you to dad?” Fara asked, her heart in her eyes. 

Marcus nodded, throat tight. “I’d be honoured, my daughter.”

Any further emotional moments were derailed when one of the young Star Riders, pressed into service for the day as pages to make sure everyone was in their proper place at their proper time, rushed in to inform them that the ceremony was about to begin, if the guests would care to take their seats so the Shai Alyt could approach the altar.

Neroon joined their friends and family in the hall, close to the altar behind which his mother stood ready to perform the nafak’cha. Rastenn, a proud young Warrior from the Wind Swords Clan, waited nervously for his bride. Neroon gave him a reassuring smile, remembering his own nervousness on a similar day nearly fifty years before. Bells rang out, silencing the murmuring of the gathered crowd, and Fara stepped into the doorway, one hand resting in the crook of her human father’s arm. They moved down the aisle with their heads held high, Fara’s eyes glued to her husband-to-be. Marcus, however, had eyes only for Neroon, and the Minbari could tell his mala also relived their own ceremony.

Marcus looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn’t quite find the words, and in the end he simply lifted Rastenn’s hand and placed Fara’s into it, clasping them between his tightly. He bowed to the young couple, smiled brightly, and took his place next to Neroon in the audience. Ardminn nodded to him solemnly before turning to the gathered crowd.

“Today we gather to witness the marriage of Shai Alyt Fara, Matriarch of the Star Riders Clan to Alyt Rastenn of the Wind Swords Clan.” She turned to the couple. “Valen said, will you follow me into fire?” she asked, and the ceremony was begun. Marcus and Neroon’s hands found each other as they watched, in pride and love, as their daughter joined her life to the man who had earned her heart.

***

“So,” Neroon began as they stood together, watching their daughter and new son dance together, nearly oblivious to everyone else in the room. “Did you see this day coming, when we rescued her from that ship?”

Marcus shook his head. “She was so small. And now look at her; ruler of the Caste, married… no, love, I didn’t see this day coming, but it is the brightest future I could ever have dreamed for her.”

Neroon smiled, and pulled his mala close before spinning him out onto the dance floor. They might be old – Marcus had passed eighty, and Neroon was older still – but they could certainly still move with the best of the youngsters, and they proved it that night.

Long into the night, the hearthfires of the Star Riders estate glittered off of beautiful ornaments and laughing, dancing crowds, as the Clan and its guests celebrated. Celebrated an ancient night of peace, celebrated life, celebrated love. And after the longest night, the sun rose on a bright future.


End file.
